


Erysichthon

by Thedupshadove



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lots of talk about food and hunger, Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), so if that's a problem for you; take heed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28508898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thedupshadove/pseuds/Thedupshadove
Summary: Statement of Valerie Jenkins, regarding her sudden and inexplicable change in appetite. Original statement given December 22nd, 1999.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Erysichthon

_Statement of Valerie Jenkins, regarding her sudden and inexplicable change in appetite. Original statement given December 22nd, 1999. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins._

The change happened eight months ago. I don’t know why it happened. There was no mysterious old lady or shop that wasn’t there the next day or unexpected inheritance or anything that clearly marked itself as supernatural. My best theory is that it’s because of a time when I didn’t give money to a beggar. This is London, after all, and nobody can be generous all the time. It would fit, thematically, with what has happened, and I can certainly count my share of little moments of selfishness, when I let my modest purse and fear of the future turn me away from someone in greater need than I. But as I force myself to look back on them, none of the people I rejected stand out as obviously capable of laying a curse. 

In any case, regardless of why it happened, it has happened, and what has happened is this: I am hungry. I am _so_ hungry _all the time_. No, that’s not quite right: this is a place of learning, I owe you accuracy. Food does not have no effect on me; I can eat and be satisfied. But it doesn’t last. Give me a full, generous meal and scarcely half an hour later my insides will be gnawing at themselves again. Fruit and nuts and bread all disappear down my stupid throat and barely make a dent. I am certain that I could suck down an entire grocery store, eat until my bank account ran dry, and it would _Never. Be. Enough._

For a while, soon after this started, I thought I might be undergoing some kind of strange transformation. Like a second puberty into who knows what. But time has disproved this theory. I’m not stronger than I used to be, or faster, or smarter, not even in the rare windows of time when I manage to shut up my stomach. No matter how hard I concentrate, I can’t seem to shoot any sort of elemental beam out of my hands. If I’m transforming at night and wreaking havoc across the city, I’ve hidden it from myself remarkably well. At one point I thought that perhaps it wasn’t really normal food I was craving. I snuck, very late at night, into a hospital, and tried drinking one of the blood packs. It did a tiny amount to ease my constant yawning hunger (I suppose blood does have a degree of nutritional value, after all), but significantly less than normal food, so I don’t think I’m a vampire. Or a werewolf, or a superhuman, or anything else special or good or useful. I’m just….hungry. 

Hunger steals your mind, you know. It can make you distant and slow and distracted, of course, but it also preoccupies what little cognitive strength it leaves you with. I’m suffering at my job, because no matter how hard I try to focus, there’s always a background narration of _Chicken sandwiches. Lamb curry. Noodles with Parmesan. Great big slabs of raw salmon served with rice and cream cheese and avocado and_ —see, I’m doing it right now. Everything else that should be important fades from your mind, leaving only an acute knowledge of just how much food exists on this Earth and how badly you _want it._

Is this what addiction feels like? Am I addicted to food? But then again….aren’t we all? 

There are practical problems as well. I’m a data entry clerk; I may fret about bills sometimes, but I’ve always been able to keep myself in all the food I needed. But that was back when the satisfaction of a full steak sandwich lasted more than ten minutes. I certainly can’t afford to buy all the food I need now. Not when I’m not at all certain that such an amount exists. I’ve come up with a few methods to work with my new….condition. People at the office have started calling me “the garbage disposal”. It’s known that if your lunch is a few bites too big, or you bought a new kind of crisps and discovered that you don’t like it, or under any circumstances are in possession of food that you don’t want to eat, you can leave it on my desk and forget about it. I’ve learned about buying in bulk. I bring ridiculous amounts of snacks with me to work. I scour the newspapers for any kind of art exhibit or event that needs volunteers, anything that might have any amount of free food. I’m actually going to more parties than I used to, always with my purse and my pockets and plastic baggies sewn as discreetly as possibly into the lining of my coat. And sometimes I fish in dumpsters. And sometimes I steal. But still, none of it feels like enough. Always, I am hounded by my own body’s clamorous demands: feed me, feed me, _feed me._

For all my extra eating, I haven't gained any weight. Perhaps I ought to feel happy about that, but mostly it's just... confusing.

Funny thing—all my life I’ve had a huge sweet tooth, but that doesn’t seem to have survived this change in me. I don’t take handfuls out of the candy bowls that banks and doctors’ offices leave out for customers. I don’t want little drops of sugar and flavoring, I want _food._

If there is one, _tiny_ silver lining to what has happened, it is this: food tastes better when you're desperately hungry. I remember hearing a story about a hiker who got lost without proper supplies for several days--when he got back to camp, he grabbed the first food he could get his hands on. It was sticks of butter dipped in sugar, and he said it was the best meal he'd ever eaten. I get that feeling every time I eat now. Not that it makes the change worth it, of course.

I am beginning to disgust myself. Sometimes I consider my predicament and all I can see is a great, sucking pustule on the human race. A useless little tit who can only sit and eat and is never satisfied but always wants _more_. I stare at the chops I’ve bought for myself and the depth of my craving practically makes me retch. I sometimes feel like I ought to….well, to remove myself from the equation. I take too much, I don’t give enough. How much longer can I ask this world to feed my impossible cravings? But….but….but I didn’t _decide_ to be like this. And I can’t help what I need, can I? 

Or….is it really a need? After all, whatever this is, it’s pretty clearly supernatural in nature. Is this the kind of magical hunger that makes you _need_ ridiculous amounts of food, or just makes you _want_ it? What would happen if I strictly regimented myself to two thousand calories per day, and to Hell with my stomach’s most strident complaints? If I forced myself to push through the fuzziness and the irritability and focus on what I need to do? What if I forced myself to be a normal fucking human being, no matter what my stupid spoiled stomach says? What if I did that?

_Statement ends. According to Gertrude’s original notes included in this file, she “sent the poor dear away with a packet of sandwiches”. How sweet. Apparently, however, she did not think to send her away with information on Hypoglycemia, Grave’s Disease, or even something as simple as a tapeworm, any of which might explain Miss Jenkins’ condition._

_We did try to contact Miss Jenkins for an update on her progress, but unfortunately it appears that she passed away in early 2000. The inquest ruled her death as being due to starvation. Most likely a manifestation of whatever her condition was, but….considered in light of the decision she appeared to come to toward the end of her statement….if I believed in such things, I might be tempted to conclude that she had miscalculated what her body would put up with. End recording._


End file.
